


Hassle in the Castle

by LuminiaAravis



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, Scooby Doo Where Are You! (TV 1969)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Cliques, Coming Out, Crimes & Criminals, Curses, Detention, Developing Friendships, Feminist Themes, Haunted Houses, Headcanon, High School, Lesbian Character, Marijuana, Mystery, Pre-Canon, Puppies, Reboot, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2650274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminiaAravis/pseuds/LuminiaAravis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the school field trip gets creepy, Fred Jones, Daphne Blake, Velma Dinkley, and Shaggy Rogers have to team up to get to the bottom of things. What’s all this spooky laughter? Why won’t anyone believe them when they say that the old Vasquez castle really IS haunted? And what lengths will they go to to prove that they aren’t going crazy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PROLOGUE

Velma Dinkley  
September 24, 1969  
History 207  
Local history report

Vasquez Castle is an important historical fixture in Coolsville, Louisiana. The Island upon which it is built was discovered by Hernando Francisco Vasquez, a conquistador on a mission of exploration for Spain, in 1524. Vasquez thought the island had the potential to be a strategic stronghold of Spanish power in the Gulf of Mexico. The castle was built using a combination of Spanish laborers and Native American slaves from the surrounding areas. Construction began in 1526 and was completed in 1535. Vasquez spent the twilight years of his life in the castle, and used it as a fortress from which he oppressed the Native American population and commissioned Spanish captains under his command to explore the delta of the Mississippi River.

During the late 18th century, the castle was the site of military conflicts between Spanish and French colonial forces in the struggle for control over the Mississippi delta, up until the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. Today, the castle sits abandoned on what the residents of Coolsville call “Haunted Isle.” According to local legends, Vasquez plundered massive amounts of treasure from the Native American peoples he conquered, and stored a majority of it in his castle, effectively embezzling what Dr. George Donner of the University of Louisiana has described as “millions of pounds sterling” from the Spanish crown. The most recent documented exploration of the castle was undertaken in 1951 by Dr. Donner and a team of archaeologists. While the castle still houses a plethora of old-world made Spanish furniture, tapestries, and books, no “treasure” was ever found.

Dr. Donner is enjoying his retirement at his country house, in seclusion outside of town and was unavailable for further comment on the subject.

* * *

COOLSVILLE SCHOOL DISTRICT

PERMISSION SLIP FOR OFF-CAMPUS ACTIVITY

DEAR PARENTS,

The history 207 class at Coolsville High Traditionally takes an annual field trip to a historical site in or around town. This year, our class has scheduled a tour of the grounds surrounding Vasquez castle in Coolsville bay.

The trip will take place during normal school hours, and transportation will be provided by the school to and from the island. Students will be required to dress appropriately and to bring their own lunches.

Signing below authorises your child or children to participate in this outing.

ANDREW URMAN

HISTORY DEPARTMENT

* * *

From the Offices of Dr. James Dent, M.D.  
105 Main Street  
Coolsville, L.A.

 

To Coach Lewis:

Freddy Jones has been to see me, and his right knee has been very severely damaged after what happened during the game last night. He needs to put as little strain on it as possible, so there’s really no way for him to participate in P.E. this semester. Unfortunately, this will also mean no more football for the season. As a big fan of the home team, I’m just as disappointed as y’all that we’ll be losing our star player. My advice would to go easy on Freddy. He’s taking it just as hard as any of us.

Sorry for the bad news,

Jim

* * *

Hey man, I’m so glad you introduced us to Mary-Jane. I don’t know what Scooby-doo woulda done without her, and I like her a lot too. Scooby loves her sugar cookies. They’re like the only thing he’ll eat. I’m gonna see if she wants to make pizza next. Looking forward to hanging out with you next week

-Shaggy

* * *

Daphne,

What do the jungle and Velma Dinkley’s armpits have in common?

It takes a machete to get through them!

Thought that would make you laugh!

Love, Amber

* * *

 

Norville? Norville Rogers? Gee, I haven’t hung out with him in a while. The last time we really spent time together was seventh grade, I guess. But yeah, he’s alright.

He’s just changed so much since then. Yeah, he gets good grades and keeps to himself, but he’s just kind of _out there_. Look, don’t hold this against him, alright, but according to the rumors, he smokes pot. And it kind of shows. He always wears a green shirt and red pants to school. Gee, I hope it’s not the same one.

Anyway, Norville started bringing a dog to school. Yeah, a dog. I think he’s a Great Dane. He’s named Scooby-Doo, and everyone loves him. He’s hands-down the best behaved dog I ever met. He just sits on Norville’s lap during class, and follows him around during the day. I really have no idea where Scooby came from, but he seems alright. Not to mention he’s really cute.

Bottom line is, Norville might be kind of a loser, but he’s not hurting anyone. He’s nice, he just minds his own business. Me, personally, I kinda wish he would get rid of the pot. But, you know, hey, nobody’s perfect. As long as he’s cool, I’m cool.

* * *

Daphne Blake is, like, one of those girls who just says stuff sometimes, and, like, you know she’s not trying to be mean, but it just kinda hurts anyway? Like, Daphne just wants people to be happy. But like, she tells all these jokes that make fun of the other kids, and like talks about everyone behind their backs. She’s popular and she’s mod and she’s like always smiling. But, like, at what cost?

She and Amber are both pretty and smart and mean, a deadly combination. Amber’s like  _really_ mean, though. Daphne, there are things she will and won’t do, like, things she will and won’t say. But Amber, like, there’re no limits for her. She’ll make fun of _anyone_ , and she’ll do all kinds of crazy stuff to stay popular.

Maybe I remember Daphne being different from junior year, but, like, she seems to be less, like, mean? She’s kinda pulling her punches. Like, she’s not happy anymore. And I don’t know why. And, like, she’s talking about people less behind their backs. But she’s just talking less about everything, you know?

But, like, she’s got this perfection thing going on. Like, she’s gorgeous and smart and funny, but, it’s like, too much. Man, it must be _hard_. That’s why me and Scoob like to keep it simple, right Scoob?

Anyway, who cares what the other kids think as long as we’re happy?

* * *

 

Oh. My. _God_. Where do I start with Velma Dinkley? I mean, I’m kind of sorry for her, and then, I’m kind of not. It’s a life choice, like, being, _you know_. And it’s honestly none of my business what she does at home, like, I don’t really have an opinion on that lifestyle or anything.

But if you look at her, you just, urgh! It’s like she’s not even trying! One, _get a bra!_ Really! Is she _trying_ to look like one of those hippie feminists? Like, that’s cool and everything, but she’s no Gloria Steinem. Like, look in a mirror. Gosh, sometimes I just want her to _leave_. Like, just _get out_. But other days I want to invite her over to my place, and just give her a makeover. I bet that would make us _both_ feel better. Or, I don’t know, do lesbians even _wear_ makeup?

I like Velma, I really do. But I wish she would take care of herself. I totally respect that she’s going to college, and that she’s a genius and like, she should have a bachelor’s degree already. I actually like being in class with her. Like, sometimes the teacher says something I don’t understand, and then Velma says it, and then I get it? Does that make sense?

But, like, the hairy dyke thing _has_ to stop. I just feel so awful when I see her walk down the hall. Like, it’s her own fault, but I still want to help her. Just, with something. With anything. I mean, it’s her choice, but if only I could get people to mind their own damn business. Like, quit _harassing_ her about it. Don’t you think she feels bad about it already? Do people really have to go and make it worse? What’s that phrase, adding garlic salt to a wound?

I wish I could get everyone to see what I see. Maybe, then this’ll stop.

* * *

 

Last month, a lot was different for Freddy Jones.

Fred Jones was the quarterback of the Coolsville Varsity Football team. However, right at the beginning of the football season, he hurt his knee pretty badly during a game. I’m not familiar with the details, but I’ve heard that doctor Dent has prohibited Fred from playing football and participating in PE for the rest of the year.

Now, Freddy isn’t a tragic character, per se, but his situation is tragically ironic. He was counting on getting a college scholarship to get him into a good school, but now, during our senior year, after he’s lost the ability to play, it’s highly unlikely that that will happen.

Fred Jones was what you would call a “golden boy.” He has decent but not spectacular grades, he’s popular, he’s one of the favorites of most teachers, and he’s Coach Lewis’ protégée. However, since his injury, he’s been having a harder and harder time maintaining a social presence at school.

The rest of the football team are still good friends with him, but the fact that Fred’s not going to practice anymore has not only put a dent in their relationship, but has Fred somewhat depressed. Going from super-athletic, mobile, energetic school hero to a social outcast on crutches must be difficult.

I have a lot of time to observe the other students in my year. This is due mainly to the fact that I have very few friends myself, but I find it almost liberating that I can study people from afar. I digress. Fred has had to change his diet; an active, teenage football player has a much higher daily caloric requirement than a sedentary person. He’s not used to the change yet. Coach Lewis visits him at lunch most days and offers a mix of sympathy and cutting diet advice.

Fred has also had to rearrange his class schedule a little, leaving early and arriving late at the respective beginning and ends of each period so he has time to get to his locker. Most of the school’s population has offered to carry Fred’s books for him, but, as far as I know, he has refused all offers.

My conclusion is that he feels guilty. Perhaps there’s more to it than I’m aware of. After all, I can’t follow Fred home every night and observe how he interacts with his parents, but I can speculate.

Another disturbing development in Fred’s life as of lately is his interactions with the female sex. I’ve noticed that requests to be Fred’s girlfriends have increased almost 200% since the injury. I have two possible explanations for this: One, that the girls in question feel sorry for Freddy, and want to date him out of pity; or two, that they see his emotional turmoil as weakness, and want to take advantage of his loss of direction by coercing him into a relationship.

It is the end of a dynasty.

* * *

 

Dear Harold,

Needless to say that what I’m about to divulge is strictly between us.

I have some great news. Do you remember a few years ago when I went to Vasquez Castle in the bay? I know I didn’t find anything last time, but I never stopped looking. I just got back from the University of South Carolina, where I found some critical new evidence that reaffirms my prior research. Harold, there are millions of dollars worth of artifacts on the island. I’m sure of it.

I thought that returning to the island to get the treasure would be impossible. Nobody would fund or allow an expedition to a dangerous, decrepit castle that’s been cleaned out a hundred times over. Then I thought, why bother asking permission? Who’s going to stop me? I know the island better than anyone; the terrain, the climate, the tide, and the castle itself. Old Vasquez is probably the only man alive or dead who could outfox me on this one. And has he.

No, no, not this time. And so long as we’re out there without colleagues and pesky grad students, who’s to say we can’t do whatever we want? This isn’t about the damn archaeology anymore. I deserve to discover and possess this treasure, after spending decades looking for it.

The point of this letter: Harold, I need your talents. You’re hands-down the best illusionist I know. Probably the best one in the States. Remember back before you dropped out of college, and you used to practice your routines on me? I know you’re not in a good way, financially. I read the papers. I know exactly how much you owe.

I propose that you come to stay at Haunted Isle with me, while I excavate. It’ll just be the two of us. I’ll provide everything. A tent, clean clothes, food, water, some books for spare time, you name it. All I need you to do is keep an eye out for anyone who might hinder my work. Use your skills as an illusionist to scare them away. The local kids already say the island’s haunted, so it should be mere child’s play to keep them out.

I’m not asking you to do this gratis, either. An even 4 millions will be yours if you do this. It might take a while to get everything fenced and sold, but in a year or two, you could be debt-free and get back to performing. You could wow the audience with illusions they’ve never seen, with acts you’ve perfected here in the castle, with me, just like old times.

Here’s what you shall do. Write me a one-word reply: Either yes or no. If you respond yes, I’ll have one of my people on the inside contact you. I won’t say who, just in case this letter is read by prying eyes. He’s very good at what he does, and he’ll have you out of there before you know it, easy as anything, with very little effort on your part, provided you do what he says. He’ll give you your next set of instructions when you find you need them.

Cheers to what I hope will be the beginning to a splendid business relationship.

Your pal,

George Donner

* * *

 

To My Pal George,

Yes.

-Harold

 


	2. THE LEGEND OF HAUNTED ISLE

“Shaggy, for the last time. Scooby-Doo can _not_ come on the field trip!”

“Aw, come on, Mr. Urman! My mom signed a permission slip for him, too!”

“Shaggy, that’s clearly _your_ handwriting. Now, come on. You’re not really gonna try and get a Great Dane on a boat, are you?”

“Come on, Rogers! You’re holdin’ up the line!”

“Like, Mr. Urman, _please_? Scoob promises to be good, right, Scoob?”

Norville “Shaggy” Rogers’ Great Dane puppy, Scooby-Doo, looked at Mr. Urman with big, watery, brown eyes and smiled in that adorable doggish way. Mr. Urman glanced down at his clipboard and adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses.

“Well, uh,” he stammered. Shaggy had brought Scooby to school every day this year so far, and, despite the fact that the Dane was just a puppy, he had been extraordinarily well-behaved. He never barked, never bit, never licked anyone, never peed on anything.

Now Shaggy’s expression mimicked that of his dog. “Alright, already!” Urman said exasperatedly. “Just get on the bus, Shag.”

"Groovy,” Shaggy said, and clambered onto the school bus with his dog hot on his heels. Scooby was an unusual brindle-harlequin mix, chocolate brown with mocha-colored highlights and dark black spots on his back and sides. Shaggy didn’t know exactly how old his dog was, only that he still had a lot of growing to do, even though he was already two feet high at the shoulder.

Shaggy let Scooby have the window seat, and the two watched the rest of the Coolsville Senior Class of ‘69 file onto the bus. There was Amber Liles and Daphne Blake. Velma Dinkley, too, carrying around that shitty canvas backpack that was always full of like ten billion books. Freddy Jones was last, hobbling around on crutches with an enormous brace on his knee. It was so weird seeing him in a sweater instead of a football jersey.

Scooby nosed Shaggy’s backpack and whined. “You hungry, Scoob?” Shaggy asked. He pulled out a paper lunchbag full of sugar cookies and gave one to his dog. Scooby ate it enthusiastically, and Shaggy opened his dad’s canteen and gave Scooby some water. Shaggy smiled and rumpled Scooby’s ears before drinking out of the canteen, too.

“Sorry; is this seat taken?” Velma Dinkley stood in the aisle next to Shaggy’s seat, barely five feet high, drowning in her orange turtleneck.

“Nah, it’s cool,” Shaggy said. He kicked his knapsack under the seat and hoisted Scooby onto his lap, then scooched down so Velma could have his seat.

“Thanks,” Velma said, perching gracefully next to him. “Gosh, I thought there weren’t gonna be enough seats for a second there.”

“Don’t worry,” Shaggy said. “Like, me and Scoob can share.”

“Scoob and _I_ ,” Velma corrected.

“Do you want, like, Scooby to sit on _your_ lap?” Shaggy asked, nonplussed.

Velma giggled. “No, no. I meant, you should have said _Scooby and I_. But it’s neither here nor there. Can I pet him?”

“Sure thing,” Shaggy said. Velma let Scooby-Doo sniff her hand, and she patted his head and scratched the velvety-soft fur behind his ears.

“He’s beautiful. Is he a pure-breed?”

“I dunno, man,” Shaggy said. “I just found him one day and was like, look at this poor little puppy! He was all alone, no mom or pop to take care of him. So I adopted him.”

“That’s sweet,” Velma commented.

“Yeah, and that’s why I bring him to school every day, you know? I just feel like, he needs me. Like, when I found him he wasn’t eating. So now we always eat together and stuff.”

“I wondered why you started bringing him to class,” Velma said. “If Scooby was abandoned, maybe he wasn’t weaned. Maybe his parents left him when he was too little to survive on his own.”

“So, like, does that make me his mom?”

Velma laughed. “Kind of,” she said. “Look at how well-behaved he is. And I’m no veterinarian, but he looks healthy. Shiny coat, expressive eyes, clean teeth, a good coat of puppy fat. He’s lucky to have you.”

“Yeah, I guess. But really I’m lucky to have him. I tell Scoob everything. He’s like, I dunno, like a little brother or something.” Scooby grumbled softly and licked the tips of Velma’s fingers.

“Well, this is going to be a fascinating field trip,” Velma said. She pulled an old, hardback book out of her backpack. “I did some research on Vasquez castle for my report, and it’s got a really interesting history. Did you know that the castle is supposed to be haunted, and there’s supposed to be buried treasure somewhere on the island?”

“Zoinks, that’s crazy!” Shaggy exclaimed. “Nobody told me we were going to a haunted castle! See if Urman’ll stop the bus, me and Scoob want out!”

“Aww, come on, Shaggy! Where’s your sense of adventure?” Velma joked. “You don’t _really_ believe in ghosts, do you?”

Shaggy gulped. “That depends. Like, do they believe in _me_?”

Velma frowned. “Well, I’m not sure it works that way, but who’s to say it doesn’t? Supernatural phenomena don’t adhere to logic.”

“So, like, do _you_ believe in ghosts?” Shaggy asked.

“Hardly,” Velma answered. “I believe in empirical evidence.”

“Huh?”

“I believe in what I can see and hear and touch,” Velma clarified. “I’ve never seen a ghost, and I’ve never found a credible, scientific report of anyone who has. Speaking of scientific reports,” Velma said, opening one of the book on her lap. “Look at this here. This is a book that Dr. Burt Macklin wrote about his expedition to study Vasquez castle. I was a little disappointed that he didn’t talk about the tapestries and furniture more, and he just completely _ignored_ the buttressing, but he wrote _three whole chapters_ on the Vasquez treasure.”

Shaggy peeked at the book over Velma’s elbow. Velma had gently underlined a few sentences in pencil. “Macklin has reason to believe that there’s millions of dollars hidden somewhere on the island, or in the castle. Other researchers think that it’s probably been looted already, or that whatever treasure Vasquez hid has sunk into the bay, along with the basement of the castle. And Macklin never found anything. But that doesn’t keep people from keeping the legend alive. You know how good ghost stories are almost contagious.”

“So, there’s like, a treasure on the island. But what’s the story with the ghost?” Shaggy asked.

“There’s no real evidence to suggest that there’s a ghost on the island,” Velma informed him, leafing through Macklin’s book. “But the Spanish were highly superstitious. Some people say that Vasquez’s desire for gold was so great, that he haunts the castle to this day, hungry for more treasure.”

“I’d hate to be that Mackerel guy, stuck on a haunted island lookin’ for pirate treasure.”

Velma giggled. “Shaggy, that’s his _job_. And don’t worry, he’s fine. He retired a few years ago.”

“So, there’s not, like, a curse or anything?” Shaggy asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Velma scoffed. “That’s just locals making things up to get people to visit Coolsville. You know haunted landmarks do wonders for tourism.”

“Me and Scoob would sooner stay away from any haunted castles. Right, Scoob?”

Scooby woofed quietly and rubbed his neck against Shaggy’s face.

“That’s adorable!” Velma squealed.

The bus jerked forward and pulled out of the school parking lot. “Oww! Jeez, sorry, everyone.”

“For cryin’ out loud, can’t you ask before you start driving?” Mr. Urman reprimanded the bus driver. “Come on, Jones. Let me help you up.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Urman,” Freddy Jones replied. “I’m fine.”

Shaggy and Velma and Scooby peered over the top of the seats. Looked like Freddy Jones had fallen over when the bus started. “You sure, Freddy?” Mr. Urman asked. “It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

“I insist,” Freddy replied stubbornly. He hoisted himself back to his feet, not without effort, and hopped on one foot back to his seat where one of his friends had held on to his crutches for him.

“Poor Freddy,” Velma said. “He’s trying so hard not to get in anyone’s way. I must have asked to carry his books a dozen times, but he keeps saying no.”

“Well, what about Daphne Blake and Amber Liles?” Shaggy asked. “He likes _them_.”

Velma gave Shaggy a mock-scathing look. “Tactless, but true. No, it’s not just me. It’s everybody.”

"Yeah, I have PE with Freddy and he just, like, sits there. It makes a guy sad,” Shaggy added.

"Imagine how Freddy feels,” Velma commented. “He had a full scholarship to play football and everything, and now he can’t play. He’s going to have to reapply to all his schools, and he’s going to have to get his grades up if he wants to go to college. Gosh, his parents must be really disappointed.”

* * *

"BLUESTONE THE GREAT” ESCAPES FROM STATE PENITENTIARY.

September 24, 1969

Harold “Bluestone” Stetson, who was sentenced to five years in prison for tax fraud last August, has escaped from the Louisiana State Penitentiary. The ex-professional magician was convicted for evading ten years of federal and state income taxes which totaled at least $3.2 million.

The Chief of Police of Coolsville, LA, the town closest to the State Pen, made a statement yesterday before the press. “Stetson does not have a violent history, however, we have no reason to believe that he is not armed and he may be dangerous.” Officials are urging the population to stay calm.

* * *

 

To My Pal George,

It happened just like you said it would. I won’t say where I am now, just in case. Know that I am secure at the moment and I am lying low, quite far removed from the town where this letter was postmarked. I’m not entirely sure if this will work, but if you want to reply to my letter, you can try sending it to the return address to the PO box.

As far as our arrangement, I’m eager to get started with one change in plan. I don’t want just the four millions, I want an even half of the treasure. You must be giddy if you think I’m going to try and pay off my back taxes and stay in the States. With that kind of money I could perform my greatest act yet: disappearing once and for all, never to return. Could you see us in Rio? Relaxing by the beach during the day, with me headlining at some resort or hotel as a master magician? We could retire on that kind of money down south.

Be warned: if this is some kind of hoax, and you’re just going to come after me to turn me in now that I’ve upped the ante, forget about it. You know how good I am at vanishing into thin air. You’d never find me.

Other than that I’m ready to get started on the project. Please send a letter agreeing to my terms, and enclose some sort of contract if you’d be so kind. I want this in writing. Then we can make plans to meet up.

Here’s to an early retirement,

Your pal,

-Harold

* * *

The ride to Coolsville Marina was about twenty minutes long. Shaggy hadn’t really hung out with Velma much before. She was such a brain. Why’d she have to bring books on a field trip? Shaggy didn’t even bring his books to regular class much anymore. But Velma was really nice.

Shaggy wondered if the rumors about her being a raging lesbian were true. He caught a glimpse of her legs, unshaven, peeking out of the red miniskirt and tube socks. Her hair was a mess, he skin was blotchy and her eyebrows were on the wild side.

Maybe _that_ was why Velma didn’t hang out with any girls. Maybe she just couldn’t. Then again, she didn’t hang out with any guys, either. _Kinda like me_ , Shaggy thought. _She might be like salami, and I might be like ham, but man, we’re both still delicious._

She told Shaggy about her research on the island, and let Shaggy ramble on about his relationship with Scooby-Doo. By the sounds of it, the two did everything together. Shaggy had hand-reared Scooby since the puppy was a few days old. Velma grimaced when Shaggy told her about all of Scooby’s favorite foods – pizza, sugar cookies, peanut butter and banana sandwiches. But by the time the bus pulled into the Marina, they had found an amicable peace.

The class of ‘69 filed off the bus one by one. Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby passed Freddy Jones on the way out. “No, it’s ok. You guys go ahead,” he said when Shaggy stopped to let him out into the aisle. “I’m gonna go last. It’s gonna take me a minute to get down the stairs. But thanks, Norville.”

The students were shepherded on to three small barges, which set out for Vasquez Island. The boat ride was about ten minutes. The sky got progressively darker as the boats sped further out into the bay. The temperature dropped. The air grew moist, heavy with mist from the sea.

The barges landed on the earthy beach, and the pontoons sank right into the mud on the shore. The kids all hiked up their flares and stepped lightly through the mud up the beach to where the tide didn't reach. “I wish I had worn better shoes for this,” Daphne Blake commented. “I mean, these heels have gotten me through thick and thin, but this is too much!”

Scooby-Doo loped playfully along the shore and waited for Shaggy and Velma to catch up. “Jinkies, Dr. Macklin didn’t write about _this_ in his book,” Velma lamented. “Oh well. Maybe he came at high tide.”

"Alright, everyone. Gather around,” Mr. Urman called. “Everyone here? Good. Now, up on that hill over there is Vasquez Castle. Built in 1535…” Shaggy quickly tuned Urman out. He squinted, looking through the salty mist. Vasquez castle wasn’t actually all that big, Shaggy thought. It was maybe three stories high, built of blue-grey stone, and was squat and unassuming.

Shaggy elbowed Velma. “Psst! How hard could it be to find a treasure in _there_? It’s like, tiny for a castle.”

“It looks small from here, yes,” Velma whispered back. “But the bottom two floors are actually underground. The castle’s been sinking since it was built. It keeps getting washed over by storms and hurricanes and changes in sea level. Look at this,” Velma said, pulling Macklin’s book out of her backpack again. She flipped hurriedly to one of the glossy pages in the middle section and handed the book to Shaggy.

All Shaggy could make of the diagrams on the page was that the basement levels of the castle were _complicated_. They looked like a maze from above, the way that Macklin had sketched them. “Yipes. I see why Dr. Mackerel had all that trouble exploring the place.”

“Right, right. Now _shh!_ ”

“…until Andrew Jackson secured the Mississippi once and for all in 1814. Now, are there any questions?” Urman asked the class. “No? Alright, then. We have half an hour till lunch. So why don’t you all take twenty-five minutes to walk around the island, see what you can see. Just don’t cross the demarcation line up by the castle, alright? Meet back here for lunch.”

“Finally,” Velma sighed. “Shag, do you want to go up to the castle with me? I want to look at the buttressing that Dr. Macklin so _conveniently_ failed to mention in his book.”

“Sure, sounds good,” Shaggy said. “Come on, Scoob.” Scooby-Doo trotted along happily behind Shaggy and Velma, sniffing the ground as he went. “Let me know if you find any dubloons, ol’ buddy,” Shaggy joked.

* * *

 

“It’s just…it’s really kinda sad, Daph. I mean, look at her. _Shaggy Rogers_? Really? Like, I know that she can’t hang out with _normal_ girls, but seriously.”

“Cut it out, Amber. She can’t help it if she’s, you know.”

“Ugh, she can at least _try_ to act normal. Look at her. Her legs look like a frickin’ grizzly bear. And there’s no way she’s wearing a bra under that sweater.”

“Okay, okay. Whatever. So she’s kinda gross. But she’s not bothering anyone.”

“If I were the fashion police.”

“Yeah, but you’re not, Officer Liles. Otherwise you would’ve had to arrest yourself last week for that awful polyester thing you had in your hair.”

“Oh, Daph! You’re such a kidder.”

“You think I’m kidding? That hair bow looked like it was ready to commit suicide.”

“Wait wait wait shutup shutup shutup! Aww, look at Freddy!” Amber squealed, nodding her head in Freddy’s direction. Fred’s friends had headed further up the beach and had left him alone with his crutches. Freddy was staring listlessly out to sea, chewing on the insides of his cheeks.

“We should go talk to him,” Daphne suggested. “He looks lonely.”

“In more ways than one,” Amber added. “You go ahead, Daph. It’s your turn.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I chatted up that guy at the malt shop last week.”

"Oh, right. How do I look?” Daphne asked, fluffing her hair.

“Like a _siren_ ,” Amber gushed. “Now, just be confident. He’s really vulnerable right now, so just go for it. He’s gonna eat you up like pudding.”

Daphne straightened her green scarf and took her time walking over to Freddy. She leaned back ever so slightly, leading with her hips and her amazing legs, glowing in sheer purple tights. _Runway model_ , she thought. _Twiggy meets Audrey Hepburn_.

“Hi, Freddy.”

“Oh, hey, Daphne. How’re you liking the field trip so far?”

“Ugh, it’s so _boring_. You’d think that he would have taken us somewhere cleaner, like a museum or a park or something.” Daphne looked down mournfully at her own pale purple t-straps. Freddy’s shoes were completely caked in mud, too, along with the bottom inch of his pants and the bottom two or three inches of his crutches. “Oh, Freddy, they shouldn’t have made you come all the way out here.”

“Nobody made me,” Fred replied. “It was my idea. In fact, Coach Lewis didn’t want me to go.”

“Why not?”

“He said I needed to rest. But I’m just trying to keep things normal, you know?” Daphne wasn’t sure if she _did_ know what normal was like for Freddy. But Amber had been right about him being lonely. Freddy Jones, formerly a grinning blond face wearing a football jersey, adrift in a sea of identical jerseys and equally happy faces. It had only been a month since the game when Freddy had injured his right knee and all of that had faded, like oil pastels in the rain.

Daphne looked over her shoulder to check and see if Amber was sending her any signals. Amber was hopping up and down, quite undignified, giving Daphne two thumbs-up. Was it time for her to make a move?

“Freddy, I just wanna say that –”

Freddy interrupted her. “It’s okay, Daph. I know you’re only over here to keep me company. But if you wanna go see the castle or hang out with Amber, you can go. I’m fine. Honestly, I’m enjoying not having anyone fuss over me, even if it’s just for half an hour.”

Dapnhe’s heart skipped a beat. _Shit. This must have happened to him before._ Daphne’s stomach tied itself in a knot, and she was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she had skipped breakfast that morning. “N-no, I was… I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to go up to the castle with me. I bet you can see Coolsville from the top of the hill. Wouldn’t that be groovy?”

“Nah, it would take way too long for me to get up there.”

“Aw, come on, Freddy. It’ll be fun!” Daphne insisted, and she linked her arm gently in his. “I don’t care if it takes a little while; I’m not in a hurry, anyway.”

Freddy attempted a smile. “Alright. Doesn’t look like I’m gonna be able to shake you off.”

Daphne let go of Freddy’s arm and walked next to him as he took his time hopping up the sandy hill towards the castle. The low brush on the beach gave way to bigger bushes, and some old, gnarled willow trees rife with Spanish moss. Daphne moved a few steps ahead of Fred to clear the brush away a little, kicking fallen branches and some of the bigger rocks out of his path.

“Ugh, dog shit!” Daphne cursed. “What is dog shit even _doing_ on this island?”

“It was probably Scooby-Doo,” Freddy said. “You know, Norville Rogers’ dog?”

“Freddy, nobody’s called him _Norville_ since, like, eighth grade. Everyone calls him Shaggy now.”

Freddy blinked. “Really? I thought they called that kid who always eats lunch in the library Shaggy.”

“No, that’s _Sheldon_ ,” Daphne said. “Anyway, it looks like Shag and Scoob were already here. I wonder if they found anything cool.”

“Like what?” Freddy asked.

“Oh, I dunno,” Daphne answered. “Maybe a doubloon or an Indian arrowhead or something.”

"That’d be neat,” Freddy said. “If the ghost didn’t get ‘em first.”

“Not you too!” Daphne exclaimed. “I’ve had it up to _here_ with those hokey old ghost stories.”

"Finally, someone who can see reason.” Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby-Doo came tromping out of the brush. “Sorry to eavesdrop,” Velma said. “We just thought we were the only ones who came up this far.”

“Hey Norville, hey Velma,” Freddy said. “Uh, long time no see.”

Velma smirked. “Finally down off the high horse, Freddy?”

“Now wait just a second,” Daphne protested. “You can’t talk to him like that.”

“I meant it as a congratulations,” Velma said. “Sorry, Freddy. It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, like, we haven’t hung out since middle school,” Shaggy added, beaming at Fred and Daphne. “Kinda groovy how we all ended up here. Oh, and you guys haven’t met Scooby-Doo. Go say hi, Scoob.” Scooby-Doo loped up to Freddy and Daphne and sniffed their shins. “Go on, you can pet ‘im. He likes people,” Shaggy said. Daphne made kissy noises and Scooby let her rub his chin.

Freddy attempted another smile. “Say, how far _can_ we go?” he asked. “If I limped all the way up here, I might as well see the castle.”

“See, that’s just it,” Velma replied. “According to this book,” she indicated Macklin’s volume, tucked under her arm, “there should be a demarcation barrier around the castle itself. Macklin’s expedition built it after they were finished inside, to keep trespassers out. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a makeshift wooden fence.”

Daphne piped up. “Oh, right, Urman said not to go past it. Have you guys found it yet?”

“Like, we found something,” Shaggy said. “We found a fence, but it was all chopped up.”

“Huh,” Freddy said, biting his lip. “Maybe we should go take a look.”

"Are you _nuts_?!” Shaggy shouted. “Nuh-uh! Me and Scoob are gettin’ out of here before the ghost shows up!” Scooby-Doo whined and sat down between Shaggy’s legs.

“Not that ghost story again!” Daphne said loudly, stomping her foot. “Come on, boys. I’ll show you that there are _no such things as ghosts!_ ”

Velma grinned. “Daphne Blake, you don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear someone else say that.” Daphne strode on ahead, and Velma and Freddy followed. Shaggy picked Scooby up and carried him along behind.

The base of Vasquez castle was covered in slick layers of moss and dirt, and it was obvious that parts of the foundation had sunk unevenly into the soft island earth. About five feet away from the wall was a ramshackle wooden fence, maybe six feet high. “It’s this way,” Velma directed. The five of them traipsed on for about another minute until they came to a hole in the fence.

"Look at this,” Velma said. “Doesn’t it look like this hole was made with an ax? And it’s just about big enough for a person to fit through.”

"That’s weird,” Fred commented. “Yeah, the edges are all sharp. Lemme see.” Fred put down his crutches for a moment and got down on his good knee. “Looks like these were made pretty recently. I mean, if they’d been here for a while, the edges would have gotten all soft and soggy because of the mist, right?”

“That’s my theory,” Velma said. “This fence was built in 1951, but it’s obvious that this hole was chopped much later. Possibly within the month.”

“But who would want to break into an abandoned castle?” Daphne asked.

“Maybe someone was looking for the treasure,” Shaggy posed. “But, like, who would come all the way out here?” Nobody got the chance to answer.

A bold, high-pitched, undulating cackle rang out of nowhere.

Daphne grabbed onto Freddy, Freddy grabbed onto Shaggy, Shaggy grabbed Scooby, and Velma grabbed onto her book.

The laughter continued. Then, a dark, lofty voice spoke out:

“ _I Hereby Warn You – Leave Haunted Isle. The Phantom Has Spoken!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's chapter 1 of the story. Kudos to you if you got through the prologue. Anyway, here you get to see some more characterization of the gang, and the plot starts to develop. 
> 
> I love kudos and reviews! Thank-you!


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. Urman sighed. “Let’s go over this again. You went up to the castle. Stop me if I’m wrong. You see the demarcation barrier that I told you not to go near.”

“But sir, you told us not to cross it. So technically we didn’t do anything wrong –”

“Dinkley. Not now. So, you notice it has a hole in it. You poke around, pretending to be Sherlock Holmes or whatever it is you kids were doing – frankly I don’t really want to know. And then you hear the Phantom.”

“That’s right, Mr. Urman,” Daphne responded.

Urman leaned back in his chair. “Why? And why you four, of all people? What were you even doing up there, together?”

“Well, Daphne and I went for a walk up to the castle, and we just bumped into Shaggy and Velma.”

“And Scooby-Doo,” Shaggy chimed in.

“Okay, okay, that much I’m good with. But a phantom? Really? I expected better from you. All of you. Velma, you wrote that paper on Vasquez castle, you have to know that the island’s not haunted. And Daphne, come on, you’re smarter than that, a practical girl like you. And Freddy, honestly I’m disappointed that you let your friends get that close to trouble. And I’m sure Coach Lewis will have something to say about your behavior, too. And Shaggy? After I let you bring Scooby-Doo on the trip? I was trying to be nice, I gave you an inch, and you took a mile. I’m just…I’m just very disappointed in all four of you.”

Velma and Freddy were sitting in the two chairs before Urman’s desk. Velma looked like she was about to cry, legs crossed tightly at the knee, clutching Dr. Donner’s book tightly to her chest. Fred just stared at the carpet, his face stony. Shaggy kept crossing and uncrossing his arms, anxious that his puppy wasn’t in the room with him. Daphne draped her hands gently on Fred’s shoulders.

“Look,” Urman continued. “I honestly don’t know why four good kids like y’all would make up some kooky story about a phantom. Honestly, if it’s something else you’re worried about, you really need to tell a grown-up about it. I don’t know if y’all saw something you shouldn’t have seen, or if y’all had some bad weed, or were drinking, but you need to talk to someone. Even if it’s not me.”

“Like, haven’t you been listening?” Shaggy said. “We did see something we weren’t supposed to see. Someone broke into the castle and doesn’t want anyone to find out.”

Urman put his head in his hands. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry I have to do this, but it looks like I’m gonna have to write up four detention slips. And, Shaggy, I’m sorry, but Scooby-Doo is gonna have to stay home from now on.”

“No!” Daphne blurted. “You can’t do that! Don’t you think that we’ve been punished enough already?”

“Honestly, Ms. Blake, I almost do. But rules are rules. You four kids caused some serious trouble when you came running back down the beach screaming about a ghost! And you need to spend some time thinking about the consequences of what you’ve done.”

“But, just look!” Daphne pleaded. “Velma’s crying! She’s never had a detention before, and it’s our senior year! And do you know what Freddy’s been going through since he got cut from the football team? What will his parents say?”

“Daphne, it’s not my problem. I understand you all have other issues, but it’s my imperative as a teacher –”

Daphne kept talking over Urman. “And what about Scooby? He’s just a puppy, he needs to be with Shaggy! Scooby didn’t do anything wrong, you can’t punish him too!”

“Ms. Blake, that’s enough!” Urman shouted. Daphne bit her lip and curled her fingers into the shoulders of Freddy’s sweater. His back and neck were tense. Velma bobbed up and down, trying to keep her crying silent. Shaggy gave Daphne a significant look.

“Fine, fine,” Daphne said. “Give us four detention, but please don’t keep Scooby-Doo out.”

Shaggy spoke up, voice shaky. “Scoob’s my best friend, man. And Daphne’s right, he needs me. He won’t eat if I’m not there.”

Freddy raised his head. “Please, Mr. Urman. Don’t take it out on Scooby-Doo.”

Urman sighed again. “Fine, fine. But this is the last time I bargain with the four of you, understand?”

“We understand,” Freddy affirmed.

“Now, go on. Third period’s about to start.”

Shaggy ran for the door of the classroom and burst out into the hall. Scooby-Doo was right where he had left him, sitting at attention along the row of lockers. “Scoob, we did it! You’re gonna be able to keep comin’ to school, old pal!” Shaggy knelt down and hugged Scooby-Doo tightly.

Freddy limped out of the office on his crutches, with Daphne and Velma close behind. “Well, at least something good came out of it,” he said. “Sorry about the close call, Shag.”

“Are you kidding?” Shaggy replied. “You remembered my name! That was like, the grooviest thing anyone’s ever done for me and Scoob. And hey, we’re gonna have detention together, too. Double-groovy!”

“I wouldn’t call it double-groovy,” Velma sniffed. Her eyes were still red from crying. Daphne took a handkerchief out of her pocked and offered it to her. “I mean, I just…I just…I never had a detention before,” she mumbled, dabbing at the tears under her thick glasses.

Daphne patted Velma awkwardly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Velma. If you think that one detention on your record is gonna keep you from getting into a good college, then you’re crazy. Any college would be lucky to have you.”

“You think so?” Velma hiccupped.

“We know so,” Freddy answered.

“And Freddy, what about your parents?” Velma asked. “They’ll be furious.”

Fred shrugged. “It can’t be worse than what’s already happened,” he said. “Mom and Dad, coach Lewis, the rest of the guys on the football team. I mean, with you three, at least I know someone has my back, right?”

“Right,” Velma said, some of her bravado returning.

Shaggy stood up. “But like, that creepy laughter. That wasn’t, like, fake, was it? I mean, we didn’t imagine it?”

Nobody answered.

* * *

 

Detention for the four kids and the one puppy was scheduled afterschool in the cafeteria. From three to five in the afternoon, Monday through Friday, for a month. Urman checked on the gang at three, and then again at five to dismiss them.

Shaggy was terrible at playing the guitar. On the first day, he brought a busted-up old acoustic and started playing right at the bell. He strummed idly for a few minutes, found a tune he liked, and promptly lost it. He seemed to be completely tone-deaf, too. He sang like a giraffe with a head-cold. Scooby-Doo made a good audience, though. The puppy sat on the table, wrapped in a blanket that Shaggy had brought from home. Shaggy had also packed another brown bag of sugar cookies for Scooby.

Freddy hopped over to Shaggy’s table and put down his backpack. “What kind of cookies are those, Shag?” Freddy asked.

“Man, they’re not cookies, they’re dog treats,” Shaggy said indignantly. He dragged an empty chair over so Fred could rest his right leg on it.

“Oh, yeah? Then why do you keep eating ‘em?” Freddy prodded.

“Because I like dog treats, man,” Shaggy answered.

“Huh. Can I have one?”

“Sorry. I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Come on, Shag, why not?”

“Because they’re, like…Mary Jane made ‘em.”

“Who’s Mary Jane?” Freddy asked.

“Oh, you know, like, this amazing girl my friend introduced me to,” Shaggy said, leaning back in his chair and discordantly strumming his guitar.

“Is she a bad cook or something?”

“Nah, man. They’re just like, special cookies.”

“Cool,” Freddy said. “Can I try one?”

“No, man, they’re like, special cookies.” Freddy blinked, nonplussed. “Special special.”

“Oh, oh, oh, wait! Mary Jane! I got – Eew! Shaggy, why would you bake that stuff into a cookie? And why would you feed it to your dog!?”

“Listen, man, keep it down. Like, when I found Scoob, he was little. Really little, like probably only a few days old. And, like, he drank milk like a normal puppy, but then when he had to switch to real food, he wouldn’t eat anything! He was getting all skinny, like, wasting away. So, I asked this guy I know to help us out. Turns out, all Scoob needed was, like, a little help from Mary Jane. He’s eating like normal, now. And, like, is it a crime if I like ‘em too?”

Fred frowned. “But dogs aren’t supposed to eat people food, Shaggy, that’s awful.”

“I know, I know,” Shaggy said. “In a few weeks I’m gonna get him completely on regular dog food and just save some of the cookies for holidays and stuff. Like, Halloween and Christmas, maybe Valentine’s Day, you know.”

Fred drummed his fingers on the table. “So, is that still a no for trying one?” he asked.

“Like, do whatever you want, man, it’s a free country,” Shaggy answered. “Just leave enough for Scooby.”

Fred picked a sugar cookie out of Shaggy’s lunch bag. It looked lumpy and kind of brownish. What the hell, I haven’t got anything to lose, he thought, and took a bite.

It tasted awful.

“Ugh, no thanks,” Freddy coughed. “I don’t know how you do it, Shag.”

“Like, that right there is a mystery,” Shaggy said, rolling the lunch bag back up and putting it in his guitar case.

Daphne and Velma walked in together. “Sorry we’re late, guys,” Velma said. “I just had to stop at the library to get these.” She slammed a stack of ten books down on the table.

“And I had to stop at my locker to get this,” Daphne said, placing what looked like a small suitcase next to the books.

“What’s that?” Shaggy asked.

“Why, it’s my makeup kit,” Daphne said. She undid the latch and opened it. It folded out like a tacklebox, except instead of bait and hooks, it was full of pastel powders, mattes, glosses, pencils, crayons, brushes, trimmers, curlers, creams, wipes, and tubes of lipstick.

“Like, you use all of that?” Shaggy asked, awestruck.

Daphne giggled. “Not all in one day, silly. I just like to have options. Think of it like a closet, but for your face. You can’t expect a girl to have just one outfit, right?”

Velma started unstacking the books and laid them out on the table one by one. “While I admit that Daphne’s cosmetic regimen is fascinating, I think that what I brought is a little more relevant to what we’re dealing with here.”

“And what are we dealing with?” Freddy asked. “Because I was kind of hoping to do my geometry homework.”

“No time,” Velma said. “I got to thinking. Why are we in detention?”

“Uh, because we got too close to the castle?” Shaggy ventured.

“No, we’re in detention because we lied.”

“Wait, we…that’s right, we are!” Freddy concurred. “Well, at least Urman thought we lied. So the books are for…?”

“Simple,” Velma said. “We have a month to get out of detention, and to erase this fiasco from our records once and for all. How do we do it?”

“There’s only one solution,” Daphne said. “We prove that there is a phantom,”

There was a beat of silence.

“But, like, how?” Shaggy asked.

“Well, it’s easy,” Velma answered. She flipped three books open at once. “We read. We research. Shaggy said that someone must be looking for the treasure of Vasquez castle. But why? Who would want it? What evidence is there that the treasure really exists? And was there really a phantom, or is it all a hoax?”

“Woah, woah, one step at a time,” Freddy said. “Back up. These books – Creole Superstitions, The Spanish in the Americas, Indians of the Mississippi – Velma, look, I know you’re kind of a bookworm, but will any of this help?”

Velma took off her glasses and looked Fred dead in the eye. “Unless you have a better idea, Jones.”

“Dudes, you need to calm down,” Shaggy said. “Look, like, none of us wanna be here. Not even me, even though I can finally practice my guitar. But, like, we don’t need to bite each other’s heads off.”

“Shaggy’s right, you two,” Daphne said. “There’s only so much we can do, and maybe reading about the castle will help. You never know. I mean, if anyone can find a clue in a book, it’s Velma.”

Velma blushed. “Jinkies, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“And you have every right to be upset, Velma.” Daphne continued. “You’re probably the one who got hit the hardest when Urman gave us all detention. But for once, we’re in this together. You have to trust that we want the same thing as you do.”

Velma swallowed hard. “Okay, but only if you trust me, too.

* * *

Detention for the four kids and the one puppy was scheduled afterschool in the cafeteria. From three to five in the afternoon, Monday through Friday, for a month. Urman checked on the gang at three, and then again at five to dismiss them.

Shaggy was terrible at playing the guitar. On the first day, he brought a busted-up old acoustic and started playing right at the bell. He strummed idly for a few minutes, found a tune he liked, and promptly lost track of it. He seemed to be completely tone-deaf, too. He sang like a giraffe with a head-cold. Scooby-Doo made a good audience, though. The puppy sat on the table, wrapped in a blanket that Shaggy had brought from home. Shaggy had also packed another brown bag of sugar cookies for Scooby.

Freddy hopped over to Shaggy’s table and put down his backpack. “What kind of cookies are those, Shag?” Freddy asked.

“Man, they’re not cookies, they’re dog treats,” Shaggy said indignantly. He dragged an empty chair over so Fred could rest his right leg on it.

“Oh, yeah? Then why do you keep eating ‘em?” Freddy prodded.

“Because I like dog treats, man,” Shaggy answered.

“Huh. Can I have one?”

“Sorry. I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Come on, Shag, why not?”

“Because they’re, like…Mary Jane made ‘em.”

“Who’s Mary Jane?” Freddy asked.

“Oh, you know, like, this amazing girl my friend introduced me to,” Shaggy said, leaning back in his chair and discordantly strumming his guitar.

“Is she a bad cook or something?”

“Nah, man. They’re just like, special cookies.”

“Cool,” Freddy said. “Can I try one?”

“No, man, they’re like, special cookies.” Freddy blinked, nonplussed. “Special special.”

“Oh, oh, oh, wait! Mary Jane! I got – Eew! Shaggy, why would you bake that stuff into a cookie? And why would you feed it to your dog!?”

“Listen, man, keep it down. Like, when I found Scoob, he was little. Really little, like probably only a few days old. And, like, he drank milk like a normal puppy, but then when he had to switch to real food, he wouldn’t eat anything! He was getting all skinny, like, wasting away. So, I asked this guy I know to help us out. Turns out, all Scoob needed was, like, a little help from Mary Jane. He’s eating like normal, now. And, like, is it a crime if I like ‘em too?”

Fred frowned. “But dogs aren’t supposed to eat people food, Shaggy, that’s awful.”

“I know, I know,” Shaggy said. “In a few weeks I’m gonna get him completely on regular dog food and just save some of the cookies for holidays and stuff. Like, Halloween and Christmas, maybe Valentine’s Day, you know.”

Fred drummed his fingers on the table. “So, is that still a no for trying one?” he asked.

“Like, do whatever you want, man, it’s a free country,” Shaggy answered. “Just leave enough for Scooby.”

Fred picked a sugar cookie out of Shaggy’s lunch bag. It looked lumpy and kind of brownish. What the hell, I haven’t got anything to lose, he thought, and took a bite.

It tasted awful. “Ugh, no thanks,” Freddy coughed. “I don’t know how you do it, Shag.”

“Like, that right there is a mystery,” Shaggy said, rolling the lunch bag back up and putting it in his guitar case.

Daphne and Velma walked in together. “Sorry we’re late, guys,” Velma said. “I just had to stop at the library to get these.” She slammed a stack of ten books down on the table.

“And I had to stop at my locker to get this,” Daphne said, placing what looked like a small suitcase next to the books.

“What’s that?” Shaggy asked.

“Why, it’s my makeup kit,” Daphne said. She undid the latch and opened it. It folded out like a tacklebox, except instead of bait and hooks, it was full of pastel powders, mattes, glosses, pencils, crayons, brushes, trimmers, curlers, creams, wipes, and tubes of lipstick.

“Like, you use all of that?” Shaggy asked, awestruck.

Daphne giggled. “Not all in one day, silly. I just like to have options. Think of it like a closet, but for your face. You can’t expect a girl to have just one outfit, right?”

Velma started unstacking the books and laid them out on the table one by one. “While I admit that Daphne’s cosmetic regimen is fascinating, I think that what I brought is a little more relevant to what we’re dealing with here.”

“And what are we dealing with?” Freddy asked. “Because I was kind of hoping to do my geometry homework.”

“No time,” Velma said. “I got to thinking. Why are we in detention?”

“Uh, because we got too close to the castle?” Shaggy ventured.

“No, we’re in detention because we lied.”

“Wait, we…that’s right, we are!” Freddy concurred. “Well, at least Urman thought we lied. So the books are for…?”

“Simple,” Velma said. “We have a month to get out of detention, and to erase this fiasco from our records once and for all. How do we do it?”

“There’s only one solution,” Daphne said. “We prove that there is a phantom,”

There was a beat of silence.

“But, like, how?” Shaggy asked.

“Well, it’s easy,” Velma answered. She flipped three books open at once. “We read. We research. Shaggy said that someone must be looking for the treasure of Vasquez castle. But why? Who would want it? What evidence is there that the treasure really exists? And was there really a phantom, or is it all a hoax?”

“Woah, woah, one step at a time,” Freddy said. “Back up. These books – Creole Superstitions, The Spanish in the Americas, Indians of the Mississippi – Velma, look, I know you’re kind of a bookworm, but will any of this help?”

Velma took off her glasses and looked Fred dead in the eye. “Unless you have a better idea, Jones.”

“Dudes, you need to calm down,” Shaggy said. “Look, like, none of us wanna be here. Not even me, even though I can finally practice my guitar. But, like, we don’t need to bite each other’s heads off.”

“Shaggy’s right, you two,” Daphne said. “There’s only so much we can do, and maybe reading about the castle will help. You never know. I mean, if anyone can find a clue in a book, it’s Velma.”

Velma blushed. “Jinkies, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“And you have every right to be upset, Velma.” Daphne continued. “You’re probably the one who got hit the hardest when Urman gave us all detention. But for once, we’re in this together. You have to trust that we want the same thing as you do.”

Velma swallowed hard. “Okay, but only if you trust me, too.

* * *

A week passed; the gang had done five days of detention. Fred’s and Daphne’s friends knew about the detentions, of course, but the rest of the school population had been none the wiser. It wasn’t like anyone was acting any different during school hours.

The lunch bell rang right on time that Monday, and not a minute too soon for Daphne. She walked to the lunchroom with Amber in tow, just like they did every day. “Ugh, if they’re serving hamburgers again I’m just gonna go in the bathroom and throw up,” Amber complained. Shaggy and Scooby-Doo jogged past playfully – there was nothing they enjoyed more than lunch period. Daphne ignored them. She had convinced herself it was out of habit, Shaggy and Scooby understood she wasn’t trying to be mean, they didn’t care, they only had a few months left of school and then it wouldn’t matter anyway. Daphne told herself that.

The girls spotted Freddy as soon as they got to the lunchroom. It was still weird to see him sitting at a table surrounded by hopeful girls instead of by his old teammates. Daphne scanned the room for them. The footballers were three tables away. None of them were paying attention to Fred. But Freddy looked unreasonably nervous, his eyes downcast, eating in silence.

“Amber, I swear to God if you don’t do this for me then we’re not friends anymore,” Daphne breathed. She stuffed a handful of change into Amber’s hand. “Buy me lunch and bring it to me, and then leave me alone with Freddy.”

“Daph, that is plain old desperate,” Amber replied.

“I don’t care,” Daphne whispered back. “Just do it.” She left Amber standing in the lunch line and power-walked over to Fred’s table. It was all she could do to keep herself from running there and smacking each and every bitch in her way.

She placed a gentle hand on Fred’s shoulder. “Hey, Freddy,” she said, using that falsely cheery register she was so well-known for. “Is there room for me?”

Fred looked up from his sandwich, and his expression changed almost imperceptibly – his eyes brightened, and the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Sure, Daph,” he said. “Go grab an extra chair, and Suzanne, could you scooch down so Daph has room?” Suzanne, the girl next to Freddy, shifted towards him. “No, other way,” Freddy insisted. Suzane scowled but did as she was asked.

Daphne and Fred put their heads together so they could hear each other over the lunchroom noise. “I was kinda hoping you’d come over,” Freddy admitted.

“It’s like a zoo over here,” Daphne commented. “Freddy, you don’t want this, do you?”

Fred bit his lip. “Not really. I kinda thought that everything would be normal – except for me playing football of course. But the guys don’t seem to want me anymore. And I have no idea where all these chicks came from. It’s just, like, this isn’t what I wanted.”

“Ideally nothing would change,” Daphne said. “But things just don’t work like that. People are just, like, really petty sometimes.”

“Speaking of which, where’s Amber?” Fred asked.

Daphne bit back a grin. “I threatened to dump her if she got in my way today,” she admitted.

“What’s that about people being petty?” Fred added.

“You’re right,” Daphne remarked. “People are shallow. Me included.”

“But, you know, at least you’re trying.”

“Something like that,” Daphne said. “But do you ever feel, like, kinda locked into something?”

“Sometimes,” Fred affirmed. “But not as much as I used to.”

“Funny how that works,” Daphne said. She looked up just soon enough to see Velma making her way over to the table, too.

“Look out, there’s a fungus among us,” Suzanne whispered.

Freddy spoke up. “You know what, Suzanne? You can leave.” All the girls went silent. “I just happen to like Velma Dinkley. She’s hard-working, sensitive, and smart. So if you don’t like her because of how she looks, you can leave.”

“Screw that,” Suzanne retorted, “I wasn’t the one who started the rumor that she was a homo.” Daphne cringed at the word homo. Suzanne had a point – Amber had started the rumor, but Daphne hadn’t done anything to stop her. “If I’m going, then Daphne has to go, too.”

“No,” Fred insisted. “Daph may or may not have started that rumor, but she’s paying for it now.”

“How’s that?” Suzanne protested. “Seems to me like she’s still queen of the school.”

“You shouldn’t talk about people you don’t know,” Fred shouted. “Now get the heck away. All of you.” All the girls rose to leave. Fred didn’t say anything as they all left, until he and Daphne were alone.

“You know, Suzanne was right. You were right. People are petty, and I’m one of them, and I don’t deserve to be here.”

“Daph, they weren’t there when you stood up for Velma and Shaggy and me in front of Urman last week. They don’t know you, they can’t say a darn thing about you.”

Daphne didn’t have a chance to protest before Velma arrived. “What the hell was that?” she asked, setting down her lunch tray and taking a seat.

“Nothing,” Daphne lied, and she sat back down too.

“I see, popular people politics,” Velma said, half-jokingly. “Well, don’t let the peasants worry about that.”

Freddy chucked. “Sometimes you’re too aware for your own good, Velm,” he said.

“No such thing, Frederick,” Velma replied, stabbing the rubbery lunchroom-made macaroni with a fork. “Except when it comes to cafeteria food, perhaps.”

Daphne’s stomach growled. She looked around, trying to find Amber with her food. She found Amber sitting across the room, with her lunch tray and an ice cream. The bitch had used Daphne’s money to buy ice cream.

Shaggy and Scooby came around a few minutes later. Shaggy with his usual brown paper bag full of “sugar cookies” and other assorted snacks, Scooby trotting loyally behind. Shaggy took a chair and pulled one out for Scooby-Doo, too. Scooby jumped up onto it and sat at attention, panting and drooling happily onto the table.

For what was happening, Daphne felt surprisingly calm. She was sitting with an ex-Jock, a feminist nerd, and a stoner and his dog. And as she watched Freddy and Shaggy and Velma chat about the upcoming history test, she smiled. Whether it was because she trusted them, because they weren’t petty, she felt at peace. She slouched down into her seat and let herself relax for a change.

Until Amber arrived. “Hey, can I steal Daphne for a sec?” she interjected.

“No need, I’ll come with you,” Daphne insisted. The girls walked in silence to the ladies’ room. Amber checked to make sure it was empty before beginning her tirade.

“What. The hell. Were you thinking?” Amber blurted. Daphne leaned casually against the sink and didn’t answer. “Daphne? Okay, I was on board with the whole Freddy thing until, like. How desperate are you? I was watching the whole time, I saw those other chicks leave. I don’t know what you did, and I’m not gonna ask. But when Marijuana McGee and Jungle-pits showed up, what the hell happened?”

Daphne remained quiet.

“You’re not gonna thank me for bailing you out?” Amber shouted.

“Maybe I wanted to be there,” Daphne replied. She felt her knees start to tremble, her breath shorten. She wasn’t used to confrontations at all. She clenched her fists; Stay firm, she told herself. This is gonna get ugly, but stay the course for once.

“And that’s the problem, Daphne!” Amber said, a sympathetic look passing over her face. “Look, Freddy’s great and all, but he’s just not worth it,” Amber explained. “You’ve been with him in detention all last week, and if he still doesn’t get it, then he’s not going to.”

“Maybe I wasn’t there for Freddy,” Daphne said.

“What does that even mean,” Amber pressed.

“Maybe I, like. You know I’ve been with Freddy and Shaggy and Velma all last week. And it’s just, like. A change of pace.”

Amber snorted. “Change to what?”

“It’s nice to have new people to talk to, new stuff to talk about,” Daphne said. “Like, Shaggy was telling us about this new song he’s gonna try and write, and Velma was talking about some archaeological stuff going on in Montana –”

“What the hell,” Amber interrupted.

“It’s like, science stuff,” Daphne commented.

“And you and Freddy have to listen to this shit?”

“There you go again, talking about people!” Daphne exclaimed. “You guys talk about them like they’re not real, like they’re not standing right there in front of you – you treat Freddy like a piece of meat, like he doesn’t have feelings, like –” Amber’s face remained stormy. Daphne didn’t bother to go on, it was clear that Amber didn’t understand. “God, it’s like looking in a two-way mirror. Everyone can see you, but you can’t see them. All you can see is your own stupid face staring back, for all you care, they don’t exist.”

It was Amber’s turn to remain silent. Daphne’s stomach growled again. “Amber Liles, give me my goddamn lunch money back.”

“I already ate it, cupcake,” Amber teased.

“Then go throw it up,” Daphne ordered.

“No,” Amber scoffed.

“All that fat just sloshing around in your stomach, all those calories? I’m surprised you’re not sick already.” Daphne stalked out of the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and listened. A few seconds later, she heard Amber coughing violently, and then a toilet flush.

Satisfied with her revenge, at least for now, Daphne turned around and came face-to-face with Velma.

“Jeepers, Velma, you scared me!”

Velma shrugged. “It’s a power of mine, showing up where people don’t expect me. One of the perks of being invisible.”

“But come on, we gotta move!” Daphne insisted, taking Velma by the hand and fast-walking down the hall. “So, like, were you standing there the whole time?”

“More or less,” Velma answered.

“I gotta say, Velm, that’s kind of creepy.”

“Sorry,” Velma apologized. “I just wanted to be there. Just in case.”

“In case what?” Daphne asked.

Velma frowned. “You know, I’m not sure. In case you needed someone.” Daphne led Velma into an empty classroom.

“I can handle Amber, you know.” That was a big fat lie, Daphne reminded herself. This was the first time she could remember telling Amber off since middle school. But it hadn’t been that bad after all. So what had held her back all these years?

“I know you can,” Velma replied. “And you know what? I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“Lemme start out by telling you something about myself,” Velma said. “You probably already know this, but I’ve been reading feminist literature for a while.”

“We figured,” Daphne interrupted.

“Well, do you know why I actively avoid wearing makeup, and trendy clothes, and all that? Because I thought that if I did, I was doing what _they_ wanted. I didn’t want to let _them_ tell me how to dress, what to say, how to think. I thought that if you were popular, then you must already be under their mind-control and the only way to stay free was to get away, get far, far away.”

“Who are _they_?”

“The patriarchy, the media, the big corporations, just, you know, _them_. It’s supposed to be this whole big system designed to brainwash women into being insecure, and then convince them that they have to buy all this crap to be happy. We, as girls, are told that if we stray from the flock, then bad things will happen. But you know what, Daphne? You make me proud because you did something different. You did something unique, strayed outside the lines. I used to think that everything that came out of your mouth was pre-recorded, but you just proved me wrong.”

Daphne blinked. “That’s what all this was about?”

“A few days ago you apologized to me for putting me down without getting to know me. And now I just, I have to do the same thing. You thought I was a raging monster, and I thought you were an evil robot.”

Daphne smiled. “I guess we were both wrong,” she said.

“And here’s to that,” Velma said, holding up a bottle of soda. “This is for you; I figured you probably didn’t eat today.”

Daphne took the soda and gave Velma a one-armed hug. “Is it weird that you’re probably the person in this school who understands me best?”

“Not at all,” Velma said. “We make the most acute observations about people who are different than us. It only makes sense that we’d be able to see each other the clearest out of everyone here.”

Daphne opened the soda and took a long drink. “Did you hear the thing I said about the two-way mirror?” she asked.

“Yes,” Velma replied. “It was an excellent use of metaphor, I’m impressed.”

“I just, like, I want to break that damn mirror. I’m sick and tired of looking at my own reflection all the time, I want to see everyone else for a change.”

* * *

Velma had made little headway into her research project on the history of Vasquez castle. Her stack of ten books had increased to fifteen, each and every one of them chock-full of index cards, bookmarks, and paperclips. She spent all detention, every detention, studying.

“How’s it going, Velma?” Daphne asked.

Velma buried her head in her hands. “Awful,” she confessed. “Not a single one of these books has information that I didn’t already know. The only thing that’s been useful is Dr. Donner’s book, and I’ve reread it about twelve times. I’m starting to think that we’ll never get out of this.”

“Why don’t you take a break from the studying?” Daphne asked. “Do you want to know a secret?”

Velma tried her hardest not to roll her eyes. “Sure,” she said.

“I brought my makeup kit so we could give you a makeover!” Daphne squealed. "Let the evil robot make you pretty, see if it's not worth it," she teased.

Velma’s heart was in her throat. “A m-makeover?” she stammered. Quite unlike her.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun! Come on, Velma, give it a chance!”

“Well, I guess… I don’t see why not,” she said.

Daphne pushed Velma’s books away and opened her makeup kit. It reminded Velma of the chemistry set she had back home. Each brush, each pencil, each tube, each pad of pigment had a specific set of uses and properties. And Daphne was the lab technician. She gave Velma a small plastic bottle of facial cleanser and a hand towel, and had Velma start by cleaning off the day's sweat and oil in the water fountain.

“Now, first I want to see if this foundation is a good match for you,” Daphne narrated. “Our skin tones are similar, but I don’t know if it’s the right consistency. You have kind of oily skin, don’t you? With an olive undertone, I think.” Daphne patted a layer of cream-colored powder along Velma’s face. “There. Don’t you think that evens out your complexion? I know you had a lot of acne in middle school, and this’ll cover up some of the leftover dark spots.”

Daphne held up a mirror for Velma to see. She was right, Velma did look prettier. She blushed furiously, tucking her red-brown hair behind her ears, examining herself from every angle. “And this is…?”

“Pressed powder foundation,” Daphne said. “It’s just the first step. Creating a clean canvas for us to work on. Although next time I might go with a creme or even a liquid…”

Velma sat stock-still and let Daphne apply all sorts of creams and powders to her face. Daphne narrated what she was doing. “You’re so lucky that strong-looking eyebrows are in style, I’m just gonna clean yours up a little on the underneath and in the middle. Oh, I wish I had arches like that. Okay. This’ll highlight your brow bone, a little bit of a matte shadow for your eyes… You’ll look just like Bridgette Bardot! Okay, now keep your eyes shut.”

Velma felt a thin brush slide across her upper eyelids. “Black liner. Bold, you know, like that wingtip thing that’s so popular.”

“Popular?” Velma asked. “Wait, Daphne, stop.”

Daphne lifted the brush. “What’s up?”

“Don’t you think this is a little much?” Velma asked. “I feel like a clown.”

Daphne held up the mirror so Velma could see herself. Even without the eyeliner, her eyes looked brighter, bigger. Her brows were angled nearly to perfection, and Daphne had hardly touched them.

But she wasn’t quite herself.

“I can’t do this,” Velma said. She grabbed a makeup wipe and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry, Daph, but I can’t do this every day. I’m not like you, I just can’t devote this much attention to my looks. Anyway, they’re not what really counts.”

Daphne frowned. “Velma, the best book in the world could have a horrible cover and nobody would ever read it.”

“I would.”

“Well, not everyone thinks like you.”

“So I should just change myself so everyone else can understand me? Is that it?”

“No, no, not what’s on the inside, just what people see. You know what people say about first impressions, right? I just, like… I just wish everybody could see what I see when I look at you.”

Velma scowled. “And what do you see when you look at me?”

“I see potential,” Daphne said, taking the dirty wipe out of Velma’s hands and getting the rest of the eyeshadow off her friend’s face. “I see…someone who isn’t afraid to speak her mind, even though her opinion isn’t popular. I see someone who’s smart, someone bold, someone unique. And I just don’t want you to get lost in the crowd because of how you look, Velma. I’m sick and tired of watching people pass you by.”

“Even though you’re one of them?”

Daphne bit back a shrill sigh. “Velma, you have got to believe me. I am trying. I just want to help.”

“Then help me by not telling everyone I’m a lesbian!” Velma shouted.

“I didn’t start that rumor!” Daphne retorted.

“Well, you sure helped spread it around!”

“Velma, I’m not like that anymore, I swear!” Daphne yelled. “Look, I know I’ve done some really, really awful things,” Daphne took a deep breath, “and I’m sorry. I am so so sorry that I was one of the people who made fun of you and ignored you all through middle school and the last three years and I just want to make it up to you somehow and I just really need you to believe me when I say how wonderful you are and I envy your brains and your guts and like how you just do your own thing.”

It was really easy to see the tears in Velma’s eyes, now that she wasn’t wearing her glasses. Shaggy came plodding over to the girls’ table from the other side of the cafeteria. “Everything okay, man? Are you two, like, having a fight?” Shaggy asked.

“No, no, we’re okay, Shaggy,” Velma said, wiping the tears away. “We just, uh.”

“We had some like, ideological differences,” Daphne offered. “But I think we’re gonna be okay, right, Velm?”

Velma nodded. “Do you, like, want a hug?” Shaggy asked the girls.

“Sure, I could use one,” Velma admitted. Shaggy wrapped his gangly arms around her orange-knit shoulders and held on tight.

“Like, I know this whole detention thing is bumming everyone out, but, we’re all gonna be okay. Right?”

“Right,” Velma said.

Freddy called over from the other side of the cafeteria. “Hey, Shag, Scooby-Doo needs to go out!”

“Okay, man, just a sec.” Shaggy left to go let Scooby out the fire door.

Daphne started to pack up her makeup kit. “No, wait,” Velma said. “I’m sorry I got rid of what you did to my eyes. Do you want to finish?”

Daphne bit her lower lip. “You know what? I’m not gonna do your makeup. But,” she said, opening the box back up, “I’m gonna let you do it yourself. You can use anything and everything in here. And I’ll be right here if you need tips.”

Velma methodically opened every container in the box, and laid them all out on the table according to color and consistency of their contents. A periodic table of sorts. She chose concealer, a dark eyeshadow, an eyeliner pencil, and a dark brick lipstick. The eyeliner was jumpy. The lipstick overstepped its bounds just a tad. The concealer needed to be blended much more thoroughly, and the eyeshadow just plain old didn’t match.

But the effect was striking.

“Daph?”

“Yeah, Velma?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure, anything.”

“You know, I’m sick and tired of people passing me by, too.”

* * *

 

The next day, the gang’s detention was quiet. Shaggy had sprawled out on the tabletop with Scooby-Doo and was snoring blissfully, his puppy curled up against his side. Freddy and Daphne sat together, working on their math homework in silence. The only noise was the frantic flipping of pages, the angry thumps as Velma slammed book after book closed and shoved them all away in turn.

“I have some bad news,” she croaked. It was hard to see behind her thick glasses, but tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. Fred, Daphne, and Scooby looked her way.

“Velma, are you crying?” Freddy asked. Velma nodded, and sniffed so loud it woke Shaggy up. Scooby jumped down and trotted to Velma’s side, resting his head in her lap. He sighed, with a rumble in his chest that sounded like a cat’s purr. Velma buried her face in the rumply fur at the top of his head, tangling her fingers in his velvety ears. Scooby stayed still and let Velma sob quietly into his coat for a minute while the rest of the gang gathered around.

Shaggy pushed the stacks of books aside and sat on the tabletop, Fred balanced himself on his crutches and placed a hand on Velma’s shoulder, Daphne drew up a chair and sat beside her new friend. “I’m sick and tired of this,” Velma choked. “I think I’ve read every book in the county that could possibly help, and I’m not getting anywhere. I’m so frustrated, I could scream!”

“Then, like, go ahead and scream,” Shaggy suggested.

“I won’t,” Velma assured him.

“Nah, go ahead and put your face on Scoob’s belly, it’s like a pillow. Just scream. Scoob, roll over for Velma, ol’ buddy,” Shaggy insisted. Scooby obliged him, and rolled over on the tile floor, gangly legs and paws straight up in the air. Velma knelt down and scratched the Dane’s belly, before burying her face in his side and letting out a muffled screech. Scooby didn’t seem to mind at all. When Velma was done, he sat up and brushed her face with the tip of his nose, smiling placidly at her.

“I can’t believe it,” Velma said, out of breath. “I thought I’d find something - some clue, some scrap that could help us, but I haven’t found anything. Nothing at all. I failed you guys.”

“Don’t think for a second that you let us down, Velma,” Daphne said forcefully. “You tried your best, and that’s what’s important.”

“And it’s not like we’re going to leave you hanging out in the breeze,” Fred added, smiling down at the girls. “It’s gonna take more than that to shake us now. After what happened at lunch today, I think you girls started something. We’re all in this, now, we’re all committed. We have to see this thing through to the end.”

“Don’t say committed, Freddy,” Velma said lamely. “You make it sound like we’re in jail.”

“Man, like, high school is jail,” Shaggy interjected.

“Well, gang,” Freddy said, “looks like we have a mystery on our hands. And there’s only one way to solve it.”

“Don’t say it.”

“We’re gonna have to go back to Haunted Isle.”

* * *

The gang had spent Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday planning their next move. “And honestly, it’s not just about the detention anymore,” Freddy reassured them. “If someone really is in Vasquez castle looking for treasure, shouldn’t the police know about it? Not only will Mr. Urman have to let us go, but we’ll be town heroes.”

Velma was relieved to have something to do other than research dead-end topics. She made her way down to the marina on Wednesday afternoon and reserved a motorboat for their use on Friday evening. On top of that, Velma had virtually torn the library’s copy of Dr. Donner’s book to shreds by now, every page had extensive notes on it, all the maps were labeled, everything was cross-referenced and color-coded. She’d also picked up a tide chart from the marina and stuffed it in the back of the book for safekeeping. The small volume was so chock-full of note paper by now, that Velma had to close it with a hefty rubber band.

You wouldn’t have known it unless you asked, but Shaggy actually knew an incredible amount of people. He asked around the school for spare equipment like flashlights, rain-boots, backpacks, things of that nature. A lot of kids had parents or older siblings who had leftover gear from WWII, Korea, and ‘Nam that they didn’t use, like canteens, small tarpaulins, and duffel bags. By detention on Friday, Shaggy had borrowed himself a small mountain of gear.

The other problem was what to do with Freddy’s knee. Thankfully, it was better than it had been about a month ago when he had injured it in the first place. But there was still the issue of mobility. Velma came up with the clever idea of getting Fred some snowshoes - a pair for his feet and a pair for his crutches - so he could make it up the mucky beach. But Daphne was the one who came up with the idea of putting Freddy on roller skates once they got in the castle, so they could cover more ground together. Additionally, they agreed that Fred should not be required to go up or down any stairs unless it was absolutely necessary.

On Friday, the gang spent detention pulling all the details together. Shaggy and Daphne helped Freddy put on his new roller skates, and extended the legs on his crutches so he could still reach the floor. He practiced swooping around the cafeteria, using his crutches like ski-poles. As it happened, Fred was actually very light on his feet and had excellent balance. He adapted to his new way of locomotion quickly, shifting his weight to minimize strain on his bad knee. Daphne and Shaggy also took some time to make sure Shaggy’s snowshoe idea worked. The pair of snowshoes that Shaggy had finagled fit Freddy just fine, and a little duct tape was all it took to get the other pair stuck to his crutches.

“And your sister’s coming to pick us up, right, Daphne?” Velma asked, as she busied herself packing her own knapsack.

“Sure thing,” Daphne answered, as she packed her own. “She’ll pick us all up here and drop us off at the marina, just like I asked.”

“How’d you get your sister to agree to that?” Freddy asked. “Not like it’s a short drive. And it is Friday night.”

Daphne grinned cheekily. “I told her that if she didn’t, I’d tell mom that she’s been dating in secret again.”

“No way,” Shaggy said noncommittally. “Like, do you hear this, Scoob? All the stuff that these girls get up to.” Scooby woofed softly in agreement.

Daphne and Velma changed into pants. With the gear Shaggy had scraped up combined with what the gang had brought from home, everyone had a pair of rain-boots and wool socks, a waterproof coat, a helmet (Shaggy was wearing a bicycle helmet, Velma and Daphne had gotten construction helmets, and Freddy was wearing one left over from ‘Nam), a pair of work gloves, a flashlight, a backpack, a few band-aids, two bottles of water, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Freddy carried his roller skates and snowshoes in addition to all that; Daphne carried a full first-aid kit and a thick wool blanket; Velma had Dr. Donner’s book, a pencil, a compass, a ruler, a map of Coolsville Bay and the tide charts, and a blank notepad all wrapped in plastic; and Shaggy carried extra rations, including three pastrami sandwiches, a thermos of chicken noodle soup, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and a bag of “sugar cookies.”

Even Scooby-Doo looked prepared as Daphne’s sister pulled up to the curb in her coupe. Shaggy had insisted that Scooby wear a raincoat, too. The Dane sat patiently in the school lot with his friends, sporting a child’s bright yellow rain slicker, lined with soft checkered flannel. He was even wearing the matching bucket hat. “You’re not all gonna fit in this car,” Daphne’s sister said.

“Sure we are,” Daphne chirped. “Now, Freddy gets shotgun, guys.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all have liked it so far! My intention with this prologue was to just set the world up for the actual plot that's going to happen next. I wanted to let you know what was going on as far as world-building and what the gang are all up to before the mystery really begins. Looks like they have a lot of work to do before they can solve anything! 
> 
> So please like and review, and there's more soon to come! Love!


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